The Lost Years
by skilled-like-a-ninja
Summary: From Remus Lupin's point of view. There are ten long years between the Potter murders in 1981 and when Harry Potter starts school in 1991. Follows his life during the first year after the deaths of Lily and James Potter. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like Jo Rowling? Nuh-uh. -wishes she could write half as well-

**THAT APPLIES TO THE WHOLE STORY**. I am not Jo Rowling and never will be!

* * *

It all began with the letter. All of this tyranny, this torment, this horror; it all began with a simple piece of parchment, addressed in green ink and carried by a tawny owl. 

He had sat alone all summer, spilling his heart out onto the wrinkled pages before him. He had longed, and hoped, and dreamed for all these years to go to Hogwarts. But summer was drawing to its end, and his heart told him it would not become reality.

The small, dim bedroom grew even dimmer as the sun continued to set. He sighed, wishing with every fiber of his eleven-year old being that his one and only wish might come true.

He looked out the window wistfully, watching the vibrant oranges and pinks of the sunset. The mass of color turned the clouds a delicate salmon color. He imagined it the color of an esteemed lady's dress, swishing gracefully and smelling of roses. He could almost see the lady, beautiful and kind, eyes sparkling, and she was smiling happily. The image vanished in a gentle breeze.

A small, dark speck appeared on the horizon, and grew, approaching the windowpane. It was a majestic tawny owl, a piece of parchment addressed in emerald clamped tightly in its beak.

The years following that letter had been the best of his life, filled with happiness, sadness, romance, and adventure. He had made friends and enemies. He had pulled pranks and laughed. He had fallen in love. But with the last straw on the camel's back, his world shattered.

He was still not sure he believed it; still not sure it wasn't just a terrifying and horrible nightmare from which he would awake and everything would be right again.

No. In his heart, he knew it had really happened. That he would never wake up, trapped in this awful dream world for the rest of his living days.

On the dark and stormy Halloween night, 1981, Sirius Black had betrayed the Potters. Sirius Black, the trusted and beloved Secret-Keeper, their best friend, had betrayed their whereabouts to Voldemort. And he had killed them. They were dead.

No.

Remus Lupin was in a state of shocked disbelief.

He could not believe that Sirius would do that. He could not believe that his friends were dead and that now he was all alone.

Suddenly the world seemed like a great, big menacing place without them. And he was only a very small, insignificant being in the big scheme of things. He had no one left, and nowhere to go. How was he going to cope?

Everything he had known and loved was gone. It suddenly struck him, the terrible reality of it. There would be no more parties, pranks, or full moons. He would never see his friends again. The Marauders were over.

His life was over, even though it had only been just beginning. From here on out, life would be one long road. And Remus had no idea where it would take him.


	2. Chapter 1

The funeral was today, and Remus knew he should go. It would be wrong not to. But it would be too real. Too final. It would make his nightmare become reality.

He thought his heart would break if he went. But he knew he had to. James had been like a brother to him; Lily, a sister. They weren't just friends to him; he had loved them, and they had changed his life forever. He would not forget. Not in a thousand years.

The day didn't seem right for a funeral, indecent almost. The sky was a beautiful, vibrant blue color and the air was crisp, the fall season showing in the brightly colored leaves of the surrounding oaks. But the air was chilled, the kind of air that makes you shiver and draw your coat more tightly about you.

But then, I suppose they would have preferred it that way, Remus mused. Now he would never know for sure.

A small man clad in black stood and began to speak of the Potters; of their nobility and how valiantly they died for the cause.

Remus did not listen, for it meant little to him, this rambling.

This was not the Potters as he had known them. He had known them as a happy loving family, and as quarreling teenagers. Since when was good old Prongs noble?

He looked out across the brilliantly covered oaks surrounding the small graveyard, thinking of happier times.

He envisioned Lily, resplendent on her wedding day. The vision was so real he could almost smell the lilies entwined in her auburn hair, elegantly French-braided and pulled back beneath an exquisite veil. She was wearing a simple white gown, but she transformed it and made it gorgeous. Her lively green eyes sparkled with life and the joy of living.

And yes, there was James right beside her, grinning madly. His hazel eyes were alight with happiness, his raven-colored hair messy as ever, matching the black suit he was wearing.

And Harry. Darling little Harry. He had been only just learning to walk. Remus longed to know what had become of him. His eyes, so very like Lily's, had been honest and innocent. But no longer. The child who had once called him "Wemus" was a marked man now. Now and forever.

A breeze ruffled the hair that had fallen into Remus's eyes. He looked up in time to see them lower first Lily's, then James's, coffins into the ground.

Only then did he cry. He did not make a sound, simply suffered in silence. But the tears ran down his weathered cheeks nonetheless, dripping down into his lap.

As the funeral ended, he stayed in his chair, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The Marauders were truly over. Forever. No more midnight "strolls", no more pranks, no more betting on Lily and James. It was over.

At last, long after everyone had gone, he stood and walked up to the graves.

Lily Potter

1956-1981

A delicate lily was engraved beneath the words, more meaningful to Remus than any poem or verse.

James's read:

James Potter

1956-1981

And a stag was engraved upon his.

Remus stood silently for a long time, remembering.

"Goodbye," he whispered in a broken voice. He looked on sadly for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, then turned and walked briskly into the gathering dusk.

The next day, Lupin didn't want to get out of bed. He did not want to have to face reality, to have to pick up the pieces of his broken life. All he wanted to do was lay there forever and block out the world.

But his situation was dire. He had no job, no money, and no friends. Not any that were living, at any rate.

He groaned and rolled out of bed, stepping into his worn purple carpet slippers and ambling slowly out of the room.

In the kitchen, he set a tarnished silver teapot on the old-fashioned burner and began to boil water for tea. Tea had always helped him to relax and unwind. He particularly enjoyed Chai.

As he sat and waited for the water to boil, he thought about what would happen to him. He needed a job, or the impatient landlord would throw him out of his small and humble flat. That was the last thing he needed. He didn't blame the landlord though; he was by no means rich, and he needed the money as soon as possible.

The sharp, shrill whistling of the tea kettle told him the water was boiling at last and conveniently served to distract him from his dreary thoughts.

He sighed and, pulling a chipped mug from the cupboard, poured the steaming water into it. All he had were some cheap tea bags; he dropped one into his mug and stirred it around morosely. He really did need a job. He had no idea where to look; he had no money for the Prophet, and he hated to go ask at the Ministry. They looked down upon - people like him.

Poor he may have been, but he had his pride.

He sipped his scalding tea. No, he would have to find a job elsewhere. But the question was, where?

He sighed again. Lily and James, the funeral, money issues. Before he knew it, he was crying again, this time wracking sobs. He hadn't cried like that in years.

"Lily, James, what will I do without you?" He did not think he could bear to go on. Life had not only thrown him a curve ball; it had thrown him a bowling ball.


	3. Chapter 2

After what seemed like an age, the tears finally stopped. Remus wiped them from his face tiredly. He didn't have the slightest clue of what to do.

Money was a worry that never quite left. It pestered and wandered around his mind, but never wandered towards the exit. It slept in the back of his mind. It had settled in his house like a monster lurking in the shadows, ever present.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He was instantly reminded of James's old habit, the one they had used to laugh and joke about.

iNo, let's not go there,/i he thought, trying to block out the memories.

Instead his roving mind wandered to Sirius. Of all topics to think about, his mind had to jump to Sirius.

iTraitor/i, he thought vengefully. But even as he thought it, he didn't believe it. His heart told him otherwise. But then again, his heart was out of order and broken.

Remus imagined Sirius sitting in a dark, dank cell and shivered. He knew only too well the effects the dementors of Azkaban had on a living, breathing human being. Somehow, he just could not place Sirius's handsome, happy face in a place like that. It just didn't fit. The happier memories of laughter and mischief warred brutally with reality.

How he hated that word. Reality. He knew exactly what it meant. He had learned at the age of five.

iNo, you're not thinking about that again, either,/i he told himself. He relived it often enough in his nightmares, in what used to be his worst dreams.

For a long while, he sat and thought about his predicament. He did not want to do anything; he wanted to mourn. But he had to do something to get back on his feet again. He could only hope he didn't fall again.

One slight possibility came to mind. Remus wearily got to his feet and mustered up the energy to Apparate.

No one in the dark and dingy bar thought it at all strange when a man seemingly appeared out of thin air. The low chatter and the clink of glasses went on undisturbed.

Remus looked around the famous Leaky Cauldron. It was awfully small for being so famous.

Tom, the toothless but personable barkeeper, called out, "The usual, Remus?"

Remus shook his head, all he could do over the din, and made his way to the tiny brick courtyard at the rear of the bar.

All that was in the courtyard was a few overfilled rubbish bins and a brick wall. Scraggly weeds grew between the cracks in the stone. Not a bird or flower was to be seen. Normally Remus would have thought it needed some decorations, but not now.

Remus sized up the dull, red bricks, eyes narrowed as he counted them. He strode forward, pulled out his birch wand, and tapped a short sequence on the bricks.

They magically melted back and formed a tall archway, revealing the loud and busy streets of Diagon Alley.

He stepped into the crowd, soaking up the sounds, smells, and colors like a sponge. They did not match his mood; it was much to cheerful for him. He wasn't ready for all the hustle and bustle.

Nevertheless, Remus ambled down the street, appraising the shops and looking for one in particular. At last, his eye hit upon Florean's Ice Cream Parlor. Florean was an acquaintance from his school years. He had been a year above them, and had always been friendly to Remus. Remus knew he was a good man and thought he would understand the circumstances.

A tiny bell tinkled cheerfully as he walked into the parlor. It was occupied by only a few early morning stragglers, but decked in bright colors with a happy atmosphere. Remus kept his eyes down, focusing on the blue patterned linoleum.

Florean, a sizeable man with a jolly laugh, and a ready smile, looked up from the papers he was working on behind the counter.

"Hello, Remus! Long time, no see!" he said jovially, walking over to Remus and clapping him on the back. "How's it been going?"

Obviously he had forgotten.

Remus attempted a small smile but failed miserably.

"Er… not so great, after –" Remus could not finish the sentence.

"Aye, that was sad, the Potter murders was. Pity, they were such good people."

Remus only nodded, a catch in his throat. Florean, noting his obvious discomfort, changed the topic. Remus was grateful, even if it had been blatantly obvious.

"So, what can I do for you?" Remus drew him out of the curious customers' earshot.

"I'm looking for a job." Florean frowned slightly, looking puzzled.  
"Why?" he asked, showing genuine interest.  
Remus was silent. He gestured in the air with his hand, unsure of what to say.  
"After… er…" Florean realized what he was talking about (he had never been very tactful) and nodded sympathetically.

"Well then, if ye'd like a job, I'm happy to give ye one." Florean smiled.

Remus, however, was not so pleased. He hesitated, deliberating. But once again his mind made a decision. And once again it proved that it had a false sense.

"Er, there's something I should tell you first…" Remus shuffled his feet slightly.

Florean nodded, indicating that he should go on.

"I'm a werewolf." Remus's voice came out quietly, although he had intended it to sound confident. But he wasn't confident, and he had always been a terrible liar.

Florean ingested this new and sudden information.

"Well, in that case," he said, equally quiet, "you can just go now."

Remus was confused and hurt, but asked no questions. He backed away uncertainly. burning with shame. He hardly registered the cheerful tinkling of the bell as he left the shop, but was very painfully aware of the customers' stares and whispers.

Remus wandered up the cobbled streets, weaving through the throng of people, until he dropped onto a vacant bench in front of Flourish and Blott's.

He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Hard. Why were people mean like this? He simply didn't understand. He never would; these people didn't know what it felt like, and they wouldn't understand either until it happened to them.

Remus wandered dejectedly up the street back towards the Leaky Cauldron, hoping for a drink and a chat with Tom, if he was not too busy. He rarely was too busy, though. Tom was a good and loyal friend, and he knew about Remus's condition. You could always trust him to keep a secret, and he was an excellent confidant. Tom would understand.

Remus stepped up his pace a bit, hoping to catch Tom before the midday rush of people. Back past Eeylops, past Olivanders, and Quality Quidditch Supplies. At long last, the brick wall appeared before him, melting magically into an archway. Remus slipped back into the crowded bar.

The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses greeted him as he walked into the dimly lit pub.

"Remus!" called Tom, "on your way now?"

"Actually no, I wanted a word," he replied, just loud enough to be heard.

Remus wove his way through the tables and came to stand by the slightly dusty oak counter where Tom sat.

"'Bout what?" Tom inquired conversationally.

"Well, you see, I'd been looking for a job, and –" Tom interceded smoothly. "You were hopin' I'd give yeh one, eh?" Tom said smartly.

"Well - " Remus said, taken quite by surprise. "Well, I'll tell ya what, laddie," Tom grinned toothlessly. "You've got one."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Anytime, laddie, I'll be seein' you tomorrow at noon then?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

With a parting nod, Remus exited the Leaky Cauldron and vanished into the bustling streets of Muggle London.


	4. Chapter 3

Later that evening, Remus sat at his kitchen table nursing one last mug of steamy hot chocolate. He was feeling a bit – itingly./i In spite of all the recent events, something good had happened to him today. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling.

He finished off his cocoa and set the mug gently in the sink before walking into his neat and tidy bedroom.

There wasn't much in it, but it was comfortable. A bed occupied the center of the room, covered with a homemade patchwork quilt his mother had given him years ago. There was a small, worn nightstand next to it. The old lamp on top of it had seen better times, and was currently the only light on in the dim room. There was also an antique oak writing desk with a matching bureau. Everything was old, but familiar and well-loved and cared for, and gave the room a warm, homey look.

Remus sighed gratefully and slipped into his bed, pulling up the thick quilt for warmth. Sleep engulfed his exhausted mind seconds after his head hit the softness of his pillow.

The darkness of sleep shifted ever so slightly, until a miniscule hole of light shone through. The hole quickly spread, revealing what Remus realized to be a steel gray ocean, waves tossing and roaring like a wild thing.

The stormy skies threw down rain upon the waters in buckets, and the iron clouds raced, chasing the wind round and round in endless circles.

But on closer look, the only thing he could see was not just an ocean.

There was an island, a small one, surrounded by a grayish haze. The waves beat upon the shores ferociously almost as though to destroy the island itself with their terrible might.

The island grew, until you could have touched it. A chill feeling stole over Remus. This place was not right. He didn't know why not but he knew in the very marrow of his bones that it wasn't.

The haze shifted, and revealed the ancient and crumbling stone walls of Azkaban prison.

A deep rotting, rattling breath was drawn into a twisted being close to Remus's left ear. A dementor. A dementor of Azkaban.

Remus shrunk away, panic filling him. No, he couldn't bear to see his worst memories, to have them shoved roughly before him. No. He couldn't bear the pain. It was a wound that still hadn't healed; it had simply scabbed over and grown tough and calloused over the years.

But the dementor looked straight through him, as though he was not there, and he followed its gaze with dread in the pit of his stomach. The door to the prison was open, swinging slightly on its hinges in a breeze, making an almost inaudible but melancholy sound.

Almost on a compulsion, as though he was not controlling himself, but as though it was some other, greater force, Remus walked inside, peering around the gloom, almost afraid of what he might see. He wandered aimlessly through the dead place, searching for something not to be found.

Suddenly he shivered, tingles running down his spine. It was close, so close. He turned around the corner, shrinking away from the sight before him.

There was a cell, one of many he had passed. But this cell was different. The shining light of the half moon shone through the bars and gaps in the stone, making intricate designs on the bare dirt floor.

Lying on the floor, twitching in an uneasy sleep, was a rangy, shaggy black dog.

iSirius/i.

The dog whimpered slightly, and then opened the grey orbs that were its eyes. Standing up slowly, the dog transformed into its true form.

The short days in Azkaban had taken a heavy toll on Sirius. His grey eyes, once filled with laughter and life and mischief, had lost their lively twinkle. A lost and haunted look had taken its place, and it was a poor replacement. His stay had worn him down. Or maybe it was guilt. Already his face was gaunt and morose.

Sirius paced, and suddenly stopped and looked wistfully out at the half moon.

"Moony," he half-whispered, a sad smile playing upon his chapped lips.

Remus felt strange, hearing his old nickname again, for the first time since -

Sirius sighed heavily and resumed his pacing. A jolt of pity and anger washed over Remus. This wasn't right. It couldn't be. Somehow he knew Sirius was innocent. He just knew.

Sirius gazed forlornly at the opalescent moon again. How could he have doubted it?

Sirius dropped to the floor in his dog form, and resumed his restless sleep. But a few short moments later, Sirius began to whine. He woke with a start and jumped up.

"No!" he cried out, almost feverishly. "No. I can't forget them.i I can't/i. Lily and James and Remus and -" he cut himself off sharply. "I can't forget."

He paced again, distraught. The destructive powers of the dementors had already begun to sap the memories of the happiest years of his life, the only cheerful memories he had.

"I can't forget them. I'm innocent. I can't forget them. I won't!" he shouted desperately!

The scene grew smaller and smaller as Remus was pulled away by an unknown force, until he woke up with a start, gasping for breath, the first rays of dawn just touching the sky.

Sirius iwas/i innocent.

Remus looked out at the dawn, wrapped up in the tangled threads of thought.

He wasn't quite sure how he knew it, but he knew. Sirius was innocent; none of the things he had been blamed for were true.

_iDamn government,/i,_ he thought. They didn't know Sirius as he did.

The thing was, he had no solid evidence. He couldn't prove it; therefore no one would believe him. Stupid, stupid people.

He sighed. For now he would have to bide his time, as much as he wanted to do something – anything.

In the meantime, however, he now had a job, he remembered, feeling a bit happier.

Remus clambered out of his bed and headed to the kitchen to wake himself up with a hot chocolate.

He sipped the scalding liquid carefully and sat on his front step and watched the sun rise.


	5. Chapter 4

The sun was fully in the sky before Remus came out of his reverie. He loved watching the sun rise. But now Remus stood up and walked inside his flat, with one last glance at the glimmering sky.

"Remus! You're early!" Tom called over the babble of early customers stopping in for breakfast.

Remus nodded, and made his way over to Tom.

"Well, laddie, I'll tell ya what. You get to man the cash register, until maybe six, eh?" he asked.

Remus nodded again.

"Well, I'll be around. 'Prolly won't be much in the way of business today, though. Well, get to it!" he slapped his knee jovially.

The job was pretty easy. It was a good thing he liked math. All he really needed to do was make change and chat with Tom. It really wasn't all that bad. He'd definitely had worse jobs.

The time flew by, and Remus Apparated home with a last wave to Tom, feeling a bit better than he had before.

The days melted into weeks, which melted into months. Remus was as happy as he could be given the circumstances, bu the couldn't quite shake his depression. His job was going well, and so far he had been able to control his 'furry little problem' with minimum fuss. Basements are incredibly convenient things to have, especially when they have no windows.

Christmas was coming up fast. For the first time in his life, Remus had an opportunity to see Diagon Alley at its Christmas finest. Snow was falling in flurries of chilly white fluff, festive wreaths decorated every door, each one a little bit different, and good cheer could practically be felt in the air. The sounds of caroling and bells were always to be heard, and the smells of pine and peppermint permeated the crisp winter air.

Shoppers bustled through the streets, going merrily about their way, and a friendly "Hallo!" was often to be heard.

Remus had helped Tom to decorate the Leaky Cauldron. Mistletoe and candles decorated the bar, a wreath hung upon every door, and the mirrors had been especially charmed to sing charming, classic carols instead of their usual wheezy insults.

But best of all was the tree. Hagrid had stopped by to help haul in a towering evergreen, which they proceeded to decorate heavily with plenty of tinsel and glass balls.

Remus leaned against the oak counter and breathed in the fresh pine aroma.

He was planning to spend his Christmas here with Tom. Tom's family was not made up of particularly nice people. At least, that's how Tom diplomatically put it.

They had planned a small party for Christmas Eve night. It involved a gift exchange, albeit a small one, and a rather large hot chocolate spree.

Remus was just preparing to close up shop for Tom, who had taken the day off to visit his ill but kindly sister, when the bell tinkled and in walked none other than Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling cheerfully behind his half moon spectacles.

"Hello, Professor."

It felt odd to be calling his old teacher 'Professor', but it would be even odder to call him Albus, thought Remus decisively. It was a bit of an awkward position.

"Hello, Remus." Dumbledore nodded pleasantly.

"What brings you here, sir? And can I get you something to drink?" Remus inquired.

"A small gillywater would be delightful, thank you," he said, unsticking and sucking on a yellow lemon drop.

"I came more to talk than anything, I suppose," Dumbledore mused, almost to himself.

"Here's the gillywater, sir, talk away," said Remus, feeling more awkward than ever. He wasn't quite sure what to expect.

"Well," said Dumbledore, after taking a delicate sip, "I really came to inquire after your well-being. And, of course," he added as an afterthought, "to wish you a happy holiday."

"I've been fine sir, thank you,"

"Well, I daresay you look it, even after-" here he fell silent, his blue eyes unusually somber. "Halloween."

Remus felt a jolt. He hadn't forgotten Lily and James and Peter, no, far from it. Nor Sirius. Especially Sirius.

He didn't know what to say, really, so he remained silent.

"The past cannot be changed. But, the future can. Well," said Dumbledore, getting up, "thank you kindly for the gillywater. Happy holidays to you, and do pass the message on to Tom, please," he said lightly, eyes having regained their twinkle. He placed a few coins on the table and left the shop without a further word.

"Happy holidays to you, too, sir," Remus said quietly, and finished closing up shop with thoughts chasing wildly through his mind.


	6. Chapter 5

It felt quite strange to be getting ready for a party; he hadn't been to one since before –well, for a long time. But this Christmas party was promising to be a splendid evening.

Ten minutes later, he Apparated into the Leaky Cauldron with a pop. It was devoid of customers; Tom had closed shop already. But it was still festively decorated, and Tom sat waiting at the bar.

"Let's get this party started, eh?" he said with a toothless but kind grin.

Remus nodded, smiling politely, and sat at the table. Tom poured him a hearty mug of cocoa, and downed his own, toasting merrily to the season. Remus followed suit.

"Ah, that hits the spot…."

Several overflowing mugs of steamy rich cocoa later, Remus was slightly hyper.

iLordy, I'm never hyper,/i he thought, slightly befuddled. This reminded him of how hyper Lily used to get sometimes, when she ate Fizzing Whizbees. She wouldn't shut up for hours. Remus smiled slightly at the thought. It still hurt to think of them, but those were darn good times, strongly influenced by the butterbeer James and Sirius used to smuggle back from Hogsmeade. Good times, good times.

He downed another mug of cocoa, studying the candle flame thoughtfully. He admired its dancing beauty. Sometimes he felt an insatiable urge to snuff it, to stamp out that beauty. But tonight was one of those times he loved to simply watch it dance so gracefully in its splendor.

"Eh, I know what this party needs. Music."

With a flick of his wand, Tom turned on the record player. The tune that came out was an old favorite of Remus's.

iJingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock/i

It was quite the catchy tune, one he had listened to a lot during his years at Hogwarts.

He found himself tapping his foot in appreciation of the half-forgotten tune, and humming slightly.

Tom shuffled his feet slightly.

"Well, I, er, I got somethin' for ya."

He handed him a brightly wrapped package. Remus's own package seemed to pale in comparison, but he handed it over just the same.

"Unwrap it," Remus urged Tom.

Tom eagerly unwrapped his gift, reminding Remus of Harry at his first Christmas.

The plain brown paper slipped off the package to reveal a box of homemade fudge. It so happened that Remus was a proficient cook, although no expert.

With some trepidation, Remus slid the gaily colored paper off his own gift to reveal a particularly beautiful mug.

Tom ducked his head.

"I own a bar and all…"

Remus thanked him most profusely. The mug was a dark chocolaty brown in color, and emblazoned upon it was a wand. The spell it was emitting traveled all around the sufficiently large mug, until it twirled to an end when it met the wand again.

Tom and Remus continued to talk companionably, until the candles ran low and flickered dangerously. It must have been quite late by the time Remus Apparated to his flat, a warm feeling of contentment overwhelming him.

Remus had a fairly quiet Christmas and New Year's. He had missed the parties that he and his fellow Marauders had used to throw, from first year on out. Except the ones back then hadn't been nearly as lively as the ones since they graduated, two guesses why.

Remus Apparated to work one harsh January morning, well-bundled up in his indigo scarf, and got the bar up and running as usual. Business was molasses slow that morning – very few early morning stragglers. Remus pulled out the Daily Prophet and promptly proceeded to choke on his cocoa.

Huge headlines topped the page, along with a long article. He noted that the author was Rita Skeeter.

Remus skimmed the page, not that it was necessary after reading the headlines.

bDEATH EATER LAST DITCH ATTEMPT/b

iLate last night Death Eaters, apparently in a last ditch attempt to recover information, entered the home of Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom. When they refused to talk…/i

Remus skimmed the rest of the page, which told him how they had been tortured into insanity using the Cruciatus Curse.

He felt sick. This was why he had joined the Order - these people were sick and wrong. No one had ever done anything to them, yet they still killed and tortured. And worse, they ienjoyed/i it. They were monsters.

Silently he handed the paper to Tom, who was chatting happily about how Molly and Arthur Weasley had just had a baby girl. (A/N: Ginny was actually born August 12th I believe) Upon seeing the article, his face blanched to a pasty white.

"Those people don't deserve to call themselves human," he said in disgust.

Remus wholeheartedly agreed with him.

Over the next few weeks, the tension came to a rise. Articles about the tragedy continued to emerge, giving new updates. The worse the Longbottoms' condition, the angrier the customers of the Leaky Cauldron got. Quite understandably.

On this particular day, yet another article was printed reporting on the Longbottom case.

iFrank and Alice Longbottom were tortured by ragtag Death Eaters two weeks ago, under suspicion that they had information about You-Know-Who's whereabouts.

Yesterday the Ministry arrested Barty Crouch Jr., suspected under evidence from convicted Death Eater Igor Karkaroff. Arrested last week were Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, who openly admitted to their part in the crime. However, Crouch pleads innocent.

The trial is set for February 19th.

In the meantime, St. Mungo's reports that the current condition of the Longbottoms may be permanent.

"It is not sure whether they will be able to recover from the significant brain damage they suffered during the attack," said an anonymous spokesperson.

To put the icing on the cake, the Longbottom's year old son, Neville, is left to live with his grandparents, possibly permanently.

"I feel for the poor boy, his parents taken from him at such a young age," said stately Augusta Longbottom, the boy's grandmother.

Court procedures are going on currently to make Mrs. Longbottom his temporary guardians are in the works. /i

Remus threw the paper down on the table. That poor boy. Having his parents forcibly removed from his life at such an early age. This thought reminded him of Harry and he winced.

All of the fuss about this was getting increasingly worrying. There was talk in the Cauldron about a protest. Remus felt that it was justified. The Ministry had thoroughly botched the whole case, with five false arrests at last count. They could only hope that this time they had the right people.

The Ministry had quite thoroughly botched the whole You-Know-Who thing. Everyone with half a brain knew there were still Death Eaters running around England like psycho maniacs, pretending to be respectable citizens. Many people had their suspicions, probably rightly placed too, but there was no ievidence/i.

iWhy is so much stress placed on evidence?/i thought Remus in exasperation. iWe all know they're Death Eaters./i

At the same time, he knew why the Ministry couldn't just arrest them.

Remus listened discreetly in on a conversation being held at the bar a few feet away from him, absently scanning the Prophet.

"I won't have it!" hissed an angry wizard. "The Ministry has no idea what they're doing, and I won't have it! We need a leader with a backbone, not like that bumbling Fudge monkey who just got into office."

The witch and wizard sitting with him nodded vigorously.

"I don't know what they were thinking, giving Fudge the top job," piped up the witch. "Now that there's Death Eaters running amok, we need someone who knows what they're doing."

The second wizard lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"I hear they're preparing a protest. February 19, nine o'clock."

"But that's the day of the trial," whispered the witch anxiously.

"That's the point."

The wizard stood up.

"I'm going. See you there."

He winked at the other two, and left the bar. The others exchanged a glance, then rose and followed him into Diagon Alley.

Remus was still gazing absently at the paper, thinking hard.


	7. Chapter 6

Predictably, the Ministry was getting nervous.

iWho wouldn't be? They're going to mob./i

Unrest was rising at an alarming rate. People wrote so many editorials to the Daily Prophet that they couldn't print them all. People filed complaints at the Ministry, gossiped about the case, and most noticeably of all (to Remus, at least), bad-talked them when they thought no one was in hearing distance.

But of course Remus was within hearing. He had learned that no one tended to expect the innocent looking barkeeper to overhear anything. They probably though him much older than he was, and therefore quite senile.

iWhat stereotypes people think of these days,/i he mused.

As he served up a gillywater to a few old friends, he listened intently without looking it in the slightest.

"Hear that protest is tomorrow morning," wheezed the old geezer.

"Are you going?" asked a friend.

"Am I going? iAm I going?/i of course I'm going. No respectable citizen is going to miss it."

iI am,/i thought Remus to himself, but somehow he doubted that a werewolf would be counted as a respectable citizen.

He continued to wipe down the counter innocently.

"I've read in the Prophet how that Fudge man is trying to cover up. He insists that everything is fine. But those poor people…" a hush fell over the table.

Feeling sick, Remus turned his attention to organizing a stack of menus. Those poor people indeed.

Lately he had heard so many rumors and so much gossip he didn't even need to glance at the blasted Prophet anymore. It was confirmed – the Longbottoms' condition was permanent, the Longbottom boy was in his grandmother's custody, and the criminals were to be tried tomorrow. Remus couldn't help but wonder- are they really guilty?

He knew the Lestranges were – he had known them at school. They had never missed an opportunity to torment some unfortunate person.

But the boy – who knew?

Remus woke up with a feeling of foreboding, not quite sure what he was afraid of but thinking he should know. Oh – the trial. Yes, that was it, that little nagging feeling in the back of his brain.

He wondered why he was worrying – what had it to do with him? He wasn't going. He figured that the Ministry would only see this as another reason to suspect him, as a werewolf. Remus hated thinking it, but he was being honest. Brutally honest. You know, chop-off-the-head-brutal honest.

Remus got up and quietly fixed himself some cocoa. He sipped it thoughtfully, staring into the steamy cup.

When he downed the last swig, he placed the mug carefully in the sink and Apparated to the bar, much earlier than usual.

Tom was not surprised to see him this early.

"Why 'ello there, Remus! Thought I might be seeing you a little early today."

Remus felt slightly foolish, having been predicted so easily.

"Anywho, I suspect business will be quite slow this morning, with all of our customers gloriously protesting our cruel mistreatment." Tom's eyes twinkled humorously.

Remus smiled slightly. "Anything you need done?"

Tom thought for a moment. "Nah, not really. Want a cocoa?"

"No, thank y… Oh heck, yes please."

Tom grinned toothlessly and poured Remus a cup of steaming cocoa. They sat in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, watching the rain run down the grimy window.

In what seemed like a very short amount of time, Remus heard a stream of loud babble floating down the street. He slid off of the stool and started to put on some coffee.

Sure enough, a large crowd of people shortly entered the bar, ordered drinks, and sat down to loudly complain about the Ministry's reaction.

"Arrests!" one wizard bellowed. "Arrests! Who do they think they are, anyway?"

A loud and raucous round of shouting followed this comment, including many jeers and taunts directed towards the Ministry.

Remus grew uneasy. The arguing was getting increasingly violent, with anger on both sides. Ministry officials who were there hurled insults at the protesters. The retaliation was awful.

Finally someone snapped. A large man wearing a dark brown overcoat punched a Ministry official in the face. The volume of shouting increased as a vicious fistfight ensued. Remus began to tentatively step out from behind the counter to put a stop to this.

"Quiet."

Tom stood at the top of the stairs, glaring calmly down at the brawl.

Everyone froze.

"I will not stand for this sort of behavior in my bar." Tom's voice was deadly quiet, but the entire bar could hear him.

Tom pointed to the brawlers. "Out."

He pointed at the door.

Silently and sullenly, the two men walked out the door.

"The rest of you. I will not tolerate any more fighting. Talk about something else or leave."

Tom turned on his heel and walked back towards the suites, not looking back once.

Remus returned to his stool to monitor the counter and the situation. He felt strangely deflated, almost exhausted.

Today would be a long day.


	8. Chapter 7

It was a long day. Remus spent most of it sitting at the cash register, helping the few people who actually were there to enjoy a nice dinner. They chose a bad night.

By the time he got back to his flat, he was dead tired. Without even stopping to take off his shoes he crawled into bed and fell asleep.

For the next few weeks, life was both better and worse. Worse, because of all the uproar. There was still shouting in the Cauldron on occasion. On the upside, the Ministry was actually catching a few Death Eaters. But a downside came with that – they were passing new security legislation that put everyone on edge.

Why hadn't they done this before Voldemort fell?

But whether Remus liked it or not, they were doing it now. Every day in the news were countless articles on the new laws, the captured Death Eaters, trials, and more protests. Remus wondered how the Ministry was going to manage this. He was very much inclined to think they'd botch the job as usual.

But that morning, as Remus opened the Daily Prophet to check for anything actually important under all that rubbish, he read a headline that made him choke and violently spit out his cocoa.

---

The headline read bNEW ANTI-WEREWOLF LEGISLATION DRAFTED/b

Remus felt a rising bubble of anger. Quickly he skimmed the article.

iToday the Ministry announced a new piece of anti-werewolf legislation, drafted by Dolores Umbridge. This new legislation states that a werewolf cannot apply for a Ministry job, therefore preventing possible sabotage attempts upon highly guarded information. It also restricts jobs in or near residences.

"This is necessary to ensure our safety against retaliation," said a smug Dolores Umbridge yesterday afternoon. "These werewolves are dangerous creatures, you know. Who knows what they are capable of?"

Ms. Umbridge found herself supported by much of the wizarding community.

"If we let these creatures run around unchecked, who knows what will happen?" said a resident of London, who asked to remain anonymous.

In any case, a majority of citizens have expressed relief at this new act of protection.

"It's for their own good," said Dolores Umbridge last night, referring to the werewolf communities will be effected by this. "And it's for our good too."/i

Remus seethed. He had heard of this Umbridge woman before, yes – but he had never expected this. He knew very well that most of the werewolves were loyal to Voldemort at this point, or had been – but that didn't mean he was.

Although it wasn't like he'd be applying for a Ministry job any time soon anyway.

Time was going too fast for Remus. It flew on ahead of him, leaving him to blunder in its slipstream. Before he knew it, August had come, and he was beginning to see Hogwarts students, coming to Diagon Alley to pick up their school supplies.

Watching the scared but excited eleven year olds and the older students brought back many good memories. He remembered his first trip to Diagon Alley, and how overwhelmed he had been. A smile tugged his lips at the thought. He watched as a few new students went into the courtyard, and then returned to wiping the counter.

Remus had never really been a morning person, so when he awoke one September morning he slid his feet into his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen for his usual cup of cocoa. He paid the eagle owl that delivered the Prophet the usual five Knuts, and sat down to read it, sipping his cocoa.

For the first time in months he opened the paper to a headline that made his insides go cold. Severus Snape had been arrested for Death Eater activities. Remus shivered. He had never really liked Snape. But he had never thought that Snape would do something like this. Remus put down the paper without reading the article. He didn't want to know.

Instead he Apparated to work early, gave Tom a cheery good morning, and sat down at the cash register and began organizing it.

The rain poured. And poured. It fell in great sheets, so much that hardly anyone braved the weather to come get a drink. So Remus finally got around to doing something he had wanted to do for ages-

He cleaned the windows. It had always bothered him how grimy and crusted with dirt and who-knows-what. All it took was a little elbow grease, and a little magic, and the windows were sparkling clean.

Remus smiled. He had been fixing and repairing little things throughout the bar during his employment there. Next he planned on getting some better lighting, and maybe fixing that creak in the seventh stair.

The dependable London weather caused plenty of days like this, when only faithful regulars came for a drink and a chat. Tom handled them, while Remus worked on improvements. He repainted the sign that read "The Leaky Cauldron", repaired several of the furnishings in the rooms, and planted some flowers in the courtyard. He made sure everything was organized and in good working order.

People began commenting on the cleanups and repairs done in the bar, complimenting Tom on the bar's new cleanliness. Every time someone said something, Tom told them how Remus had been fixing things in his spare time. Most of the regulars were familiar with Remus, as he'd been seeing them nearly every day for almost a year. They praised him for his work, and he found himself accepting some offers to do repair work around their homes and businesses. Remus found having something to do in his free time was quite enjoyable, and very financially beneficial. He also began doing repairs around his own home.

Remus also managed to keep up with his writing, and hoped to someday get it published when things weren't so financially tight. Even with his repair works, it was a struggle to make ends meet. He planned his meals ahead of time, buying only what he needed, and took utmost care to be thrifty.

He dreamed of someday buying his own house, and started saving up his money in a small jam jar, putting in every Knut he had to spare. He also stopped receiving the Prophet – that was five more Knuts daily towards a house of his own.

He would get there eventually, no matter how long it took.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **This is the last chapter kiddies. I have an epilogue to write, and then that's it. God, finally. I've been writing this since December and I'm getting v. tired of it.

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The months slipped away, and as they did the Leaky Cauldron found itself transformed into the utmost warmth and cleanliness. Soon Remus's jam jar ran out of space for the spare cash he was putting in it, and he started another. Mostly only Knuts and Sickles were to be found in his little jars, but the occasional gold Galleon twinkled from between the silver and bronze.

Remus was finding himself quite a money-earner in repair works. Tom had begun paying him for his extra repairs, and things were no longer as tight money-wise. He enjoyed his work and his writing, and thrived on his hot cocoa. Life was good to Remus again, although no matter how happy he was a thorn of sadness still pricked his heart for what he had lost.

And another month passed. He now had himself a second full of money, and was well on his way to a home, albeit a small one, of his own. But when he was at home, he was lonely; so he decided to take a bit of his Muggle money that he used for groceries and daily shopping and get himself a pet.

Remus went into Muggle London to the pound and began looking at the cats. There were many of them, more old than young. He immediately passed up the frolicking kittens; they were young and cute and would find homes easily enough. It was an older cat he was looking for.

As he passed one cage, a paw shot out between the gaps, trying to reach him. Remus stopped to look at the occupant.

It was an old war veteran-like cat, one ear torn and the other droopy. His tail had the look of being broken more than once; the cat waved this jaunty war banner about happily. He was a scruffy-looking thing, with short, dark fur and orange eyes. Remus wondered how long he had been here.

A half an hour later, Remus was at home with the necessary supplies to care for his new pet, and said pet purring happily and batting a ball around his living room.

The old but still robust cat settled in and quickly developed a bond with Remus. He was fiercely loyal, and stuck to his schedule. Like Remus, the cat seemed to enjoy routine, and so they settled into one. Remus would get up at seven, feed his cat at 7:30, and leave for work at eight. When he got back from work at four, he would fix himself dinner, which would be ready by five or so, when he fed the cat. The rest of the evening would be spent reading, or working on a project, the cat watching all the while. And when Remus went to bed, the cat would follow and curl up at the foot of the bed and purr. Remus left the door slightly open after discovering his cat's tendency for midnight wanderings, until he got a cat door.

But soon his new feline friend required a name. He could no longer be called Kitty, or Cat.

Remus sat on the floor of his living room one June evening, a week after he had brought home the cat. It was a beautiful night, an Remus only wished he lived in the country so he could see the sunset and watch the stars come out. But that would be impossible in the middle of crowded London, where tall buildings blocked out the sky and air pollution dimmed the stars.

Remus toyed with different names, calling them out to the cat, which was playing with a loose thread on the rug. He went through many names, but the cat finally lifted its eyes in response to a name. Therefore, the cat was christened Socks.

The cat came to have many other nicknames over the months as he settled in more and more.

Remus sat by the fire one evening and looked through some old picture albums. It still hurt, looking at pictures of the Marauders, and he had the slight urge to rip every picture of Peter to shreds, but it didn't hurt as much as it once would have.

And life went on. Remus enjoyed settling into a routine, for the first time in several years. Previously he had been spending much of his time at emergency Order meetings, and had no chance to get out and about. He had lived in fear back in those days, and for good reason. Remus did a little writing in his spare time, and got through quite a lot of reading. It was a peaceful life. The weather got bitter and cold, and next thing he knew it was Halloween again.

Remus could hardly believe that a whole year had passed since Lily and James had died. It seemed like yesterday, or a few days ago even. But not a whole year.

He spent the day in a bit of a stupor, both dreading and anticipating what he was planning to do. He wondered just how he would react to visiting their graves again, for the first time in nearly a year. He had never quite been able to bring himself to visit before, but he never forgot.

As the sun began to set, Remus Apparated to the graveyard. He picked his way through the graves, until he reached the spot under the oak tree, where his friends would forever lie. The wind stirred brightly colored orange and yellow leaves, and they scuttled across the grass in front of the two headstones.

Remus noted that someone had been earlier, probably today, and left flowers. They were roses, white roses, pure and beautiful but also somber and stately.

Remus sat and leaned against the oak tree, staring at the headstones as the sun's dying rays gilded them. The moon came out, revealing her face. She was a crescent moon tonight, young and resplendent.

Remus watched as the stars came out, twinkling almost sadly, as in remembrance of what happened on this night a year ago. He had never quite forgotten his friends' deaths, even in his times of happiness. It had always lurked in the back of his mind, and sometimes he thought about it. But he never, ever forgot the even that had changed his life so drastically.

He stood, slightly cramped. It was truly dark now, and the moon and stars were the only illumination. Remus took one last glance at Lily and James's graves, and turned and disapparated with a pop.

When he appeared at his flat, he fixed himself a mug of cocoa and stared out the window at the moon. It was his bane, his existence. Remus stood up, and dug a small candle out of a cupboard. He lit it, carried it to his room, and set it on his bedside table. Remus fell asleep watching the flame dance.


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: **This fic's one year anniversary was December 24th (pathetic, it's so short and it took me so long) and it received the #18 spot on HPANA's top 20 fanfics of the year...at which I promptly died. And finished it, finally. So this is it folks. Whoever's reading this anyway. All reviews are very appreciated!

**Disclaimer: **HP is not mine... Socks is. xD

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**Epilogue**

Nearly 12 years had passed since that fateful Halloween night. Things had had their ups and downs, but as a general whole, things had smoothed out. Remus had managed to publish a few articles for a wizarding magazine, and was still working happily in Tom's bar. Things had become easier for him financially, but he was far from wealthy. Socks had died peacefully in June, and was buried in the backyard of the flat he had been able to buy with a handmade marker.

Remus was absentmindedly washing up the supper dishes one night in July, when he heard a tapping on his window. Surprised, he looked up. He usually did not expect mail, as he had discontinued receiving the Daily Prophet years ago. He quickly let the tawny owl –_the owl that brought his letter all those years ago had been tawny_- into his home, only to see that the letter it bore had the Hogwarts crest stamped into it –_oh the déjà vu_- just like it had over thirty years ago.

His hands shook as he opened the envelope and pulled out a letter on thick, yellowish parchment –_just how he remembered it_- with emerald ink.

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_ he read:

_I am pleased to offer you the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts this year. I would be most honored if you would accept, as I know you to be extremely proficient in this area. Please consider it, and let me know._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Remus was shocked. This was a huge opportunity – he made enough to support himself working for Tom, but a teaching position… he wasn't sure if he could handle it, but then he remembered how he used to help his friends with their homework –_and this time the memory didn't hurt_- and how Peter would always need Transfiguration explained and how James and Sirius would always ask them to check over their essays, and he knew he could.

He pulled out a spare piece of parchment and sent his reply, watching as the tawny owl grew smaller and smaller against the bright blue of the cloudless sky.

It was not until after he sent the owl that he realized.

He would be teaching James' and Lily's son.


End file.
